


love me, love my dog

by thebetterbina



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Travel, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, and androids are treated so much better there, in summary they travel to another continent, its all cute i swear on my soul
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 03:26:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19737364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebetterbina/pseuds/thebetterbina
Summary: “So, gonna wine and dine me huh?” Hank asks, wry smile on face.Embarrassingly, Connor takes his hand and kisses his knuckles.“Only the best for you.”“God, when did you become such a sap?”"HANKCON on a holiday in Malaysia" for@_paperchimesthank u sm for commissioning this ♡♡♡





	love me, love my dog

**Author's Note:**

> unbetad, catch me with those mistakes

* * *

love me, love my dog

_proverb._ if you love someone, you must accept everything about them, even their faults.

* * *

“I still don’t know why you picked _here_ of all places.” 

Hank grouses for the upteenth time, picking up his luggage from the carousel as Connor looks on with a placid smile on his face. His partner holds up the mini travel book excitedly; along the ridges, pages are clearly marked off with post-it notes with clean, precise, intervals between them. He squints, and he’s pretty sure the post-its are useless considering it looked as if Connor had marked the whole book.

“I just booked a cab, it’ll take us to the hotel and we can rest for awhile before we head anywhere,” Connor pauses, taking Hank’s free hand in his and intertwining their fingers. He gives him a cheeky grin as they exit the airport. “After all, one of us needs the rest.”

It was a few months back that Connor had abruptly brought the idea of a vacation to the table, they’d been pouring over a case—android body parts being trafficked in and out of the US, not pretty—and it had taken them a solid two months to close the case; by then Fowler had been practically nagging them to take some time off. Hank doesn’t exactly find it fair, he’d only started picking his slack up after Connor came around and taking extra days after the years he’d spent slacking didn’t seem right. Still, Jeffrey had threatened to fire Hank over not taking a break, and it’s also partially his fault for telling Connor he didn’t mind whatever the android picked. 

Which was how they found themselves exiting the Kuala Lumpur International Airport.

The first thing Hank notes on exiting, is the immediate heat that washes over him; absolutely nothing like Detroit that had it’s biting wind and bitching rain that made for relatively cool weather. The humidity hangs in the air and over him like a blanket. Even he cab drivers—mostly elderly and definitely human—dress in simple short-sleeved shirts and khakis. 

Connor drags him over to their taxi, and a grinning man who introduces himself as Ah Chun helps them with their bags. It’s not much anyways, they have two suitcases and a backpack between them. Their break only went on for a week, that was about as much as Hank was willing to give before he knew he’d start getting antsy and want to return back to familiarity—Connor had been understanding.

The hour drive to the city centre is interesting, Ah Chun speaks fluent english with a mild accent and asks them cheerily what they’re planning to do; Connor answers most of the questions, and the driver offers up some additional points of interest as a local that Connor listens with rapt attention—pen gliding over the paper and taking down notes like he’s listening to a witness. Hank knows it’s not necessary, Connor records every interaction he has and the action is more out of habit at this point.

At some point Ah Chun looks almost cautiously up at the rearview mirror, his voice soft as he asks. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but you’re okay with androids right?”

Connor, looking a little surprised, nods. “Of course, why?”

At that, the guy’s shoulder sags, “That’s good. In Malaysia, we used to buy lots of androids from many parts of the world, and some people who come here don’t like them you see—but we Malaysians? We love our androids, they all have Malaysian citizenship you see. They’re people too.”

Connor has that distant look in his eyes, the struggle for android rights in America was still a long uphill battle Markus and the Jericho crew were struggling with. “I’m an android too.”

Ah Chun lights up at that, glancing back at them from the mirror as he exclaims. “No wonder, you’re too handsome! I was thinking if my son looked half as good as you, maybe he wouldn’t have issues finding a boyfriend!”

Hank’s first impression of Malaysia is good.

* * *

Kuala Lumpur is vibrant.

That’s what Hank thinks as he pushes through the bustling streets of late night Petaling, the sharp calls from the locals selling their wares along with the roasting of street food overwhelming his senses—it’s a dramatic change from the streets he’s used to walking along, where people tended to mind their own business and kept their heads down; here it’s an entirely different realm as he catches sight of people bartering and yelling over goods. The glimpse of technology is still there of course, but as Connor rattles on the history of the street, Hank realizes the people had worked hard to preserve this original liveliness; making the night markets one of the key attractions when coming to Asia.

They settle at a food stall and Connor gets into a rapid-fire conversation with local, who looks frankly baffled, which Hank can understand—he expects not many tourists manage with the local language. 

“So, what language were you speaking?” 

“Hokkein, it’s a dialect of the region actually—she was just telling me what’s on the menu. I ordered something warm for you, it’s supposed to be an egg noodle soup called _banmian_. And they have Thirium here surprisingly, the girl has an android partner and offered to heat some up for me.”

“That’s awfully nice of em’.”

Connor smiles, the treatment of androids in Malaysia so vastly different to America it’s jarring. “It is, I finally understand why North kept insisting we visit a part of Southeast Asia.”

They settle in that way, admiring the view of the lively street, fingers laced together and the world becoming a muted blur of the glittering nightlife.

* * *

Hank doesn’t know what’s going on with Connor, but the first thing they do the next morning is visit a _cave_.

Hank makes a grumble at the 272 steps leading up to the Temple Cave, but he can’t find it in himself to hate experience—not when Connor looks more excited than Sumo at the park, practically beaming as he lists the facts and figures of the historical site. 

“—the limestone forming the cave is said to be around 400 million years old, and the whole structure has held up since its completion in 1891. It’s a focal point of the Hindu festival of Thaipusam here.”

“Thaipusam? What’s that celebrating?” In between huffs Hank manages to ask.

“Oh—the festival commemorates the occasion when the goddess of divine strength and power Parvati gave Murugan, the Hindu god of war, a spear to vanquish the evil demon Soorapadman.”

The view from the top is entirely worth the uphill battle, looking over the expanse of land and the 42.7 meter statue of Murugan, Hank wonders if he’d ever have seen this if Connor hadn’t walked into his life. 

They spend almost a full day in the caves, which Hank hadn’t minded—he’d told Connor the night before he really didn’t want to spend any extra time on a plane or any matter of transportation for more than six hours. Connor had sulked, but he’d removed at least three quarters of the sticky notes on the little travel book; reducing all their points of interest to the main city and maybe on the outskirts if their remaining five days allowed.

* * *

The days pass with Hank being wizzed across the city, Connor tentatively picks the places for their historical heritage rather than tourist interest and Hank is glad—he enjoys the pockets of quiet they can get in the busy capital. They visit Dataran Merdeka and Hank tucks away the knowledge of Malaysian independence, they snap a few photos at the Forest Eco Park, the blend between the modernity of the concrete jungle and lush green a beautiful complement. 

One day Connor asks if he’d like to visit Kuala Lumpur Bird Park, a walk-in aviary with free roaming birds. Hank only has one thing to say on the matter.

“No.” 

They never speak of it again.

The only mildly busy part of their trip is along the line to the viewing deck of the Menara Kuala Lumpur—the KL Tower, and there’s a fair number of locals mixed in with tourists that only make the wait under the blistering heat somewhat annoying. Still, they manage to wait it out and settle in for lunch in the revolving restaurant affording a panoramic view of the city below.

It’s not all that bad.

* * *

Their last day in Kuala Lumpur is by far the most interesting.

Connor takes them closer to where the city centre is and they spent the majority of the morning at the Central Market picking out trinkets for their friends back in Detroit—Connor picks out a ridiculous amount of keychains, and a number of _Batik_ scarves and cloths he thinks Markus would enjoy before they stop head back to the hotel to rest. In the evening Connor wakes him up with kisses peppered across his face, and quietly tells Hank he has a surprise for him.

The restaurant THIRTY8 is breathtaking, the ambience is dimmed for the evening, low muted tones to compliment the spectacular view overlooking the glimmering lights of the Twin Towers. 

“So, gonna wine and dine me huh?” Hank asks, wry smile on face.

Embarrassingly, Connor takes his hand and kisses his knuckles.

“Only the best for you.”

“ _God_ , when did you become such a sap?”

They get a table right next to the glass, and their server, Ramesh, is chipper as he hands them their menus rattling off the day’s specials and quickly becomes a flustering mess when Connor softly tells him he’s an android.

“Oh—forgive me, I didn’t realize—please wait,” he darts off before they can say anything but is back within seconds with a bigger smile and a different menu in hand. “This is our separate menu, we have an android chef employed you see, and all the dishes are completely safe!” He adds with a happy chuckle.

They pick their food and fall into quiet conversation, there’s a low lull in the restaurant with servers darting in and out with trays of food. The atmosphere calming to the swarming energy of the streets below he’d experienced for the past few days, Kuala Lumpur has a hectic mood to it—but he wouldn’t dare compare it to anywhere else, the city holds itself a fond place in his memories now.

Their meal arrives and passes like a content dream, Hank’s not particularly picky when it comes to food but he has to admit everything he’s tasted in Asia has been flavourful and nothing like the Americanized version of tuck shops he’s seen back home. It’s even better knowing Connor can enjoy with him, the chef apparently having gone lengths to test out what the average android could consume that it surprises Connor when (what looks like filleted fish to Hank) hits his palate.

“Its … its composition is similar to that of jelly.” The brunet adds after a beat of quiet wonder, Hank wishes he had his camera to photograph the moment.

The night ends with red wine and glittery purple Thirium, and Hank’s never felt quite so relaxed in his 55 years of being alive—and he has his partner to thank for that.

“Hank … I have something to ask you.” 

It’s strange how alarmed Hank suddenly feels, the trepidation creeping on him with fear and his brain firing off in different directions of what kind of bomb will be dropped. But those thoughts zip away as quickly as they arrived, his brain settles into a static silence watching Connor get up and proceed to get down on one knee.

Those same deft fingers Hank’s always watched roll a coin, now hold a maroon velvet box; cushioned inside is a simple band with the most beautifully asscher cut diamond he’s seen that sends him reeling. 

“Henry James Anderson—will you marry me?”

There’s a stillness that passes the restaurant with that sentence, servers and nearby tables having stopped to watch; bated breath, Hank’s brain attempts to catch up with the current situation before he’s jumping up, pulling Connor into the tightest hug and kisses his lover on the lips.

  
“Yes—Jesus Christ, _yes_ I’ll marry you.”

**Author's Note:**

> in an ideal world, malaysia is a haven for people escaping the fears of prejudice, and i believe my people would extend that same love and acceptance to androids looking for a nation to soundly call home
> 
> find me on twitter and commission me there yeehaw [@therealconnor60](https://twitter.com/therealconnor60)


End file.
